Father's Day
by smilelikey0umeanit
Summary: This particular Father's Day was the first time that both of Gordon's children were remembering him together.


_**A/N: I've been wanting to write a fic exploring Sandra's relationship with Tom (her half-brother) for a while now, and Father's Day seemed like a good excuse. Enjoy!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own New Tricks.**_

Father's Day

It was a sunny afternoon in mid-June, as she stood in the large expanse of immaculately kept grass that had become her father's final resting place, over thirty years ago. It was also Father's Day, and the cemetery was busier than usual, with people much like herself paying their respects. However, she was probably different from the other mourners, in that she wasn't really sure why she had chosen to visit her father that day. The event wasn't usually one that she and Grace marked together, by placing flowers on Gordon's grave, like they did for his birthday. Even Christmas had become lost over the years for the Pullman family, as Sandra was usually busy with end-of-year audits and tying up the loose ends of various cases. That was her excuse for avoiding it, anyway.

So it was a rarity that she was here today, and even more of a seldom occurrence that she was alone, unaccompanied by her mother. She did sometimes feel guilty, for not coming to see her male parent more frequently, but she had identified Grace as the root cause of that particular feeling- it was her who usually galvanised her into coming, out of some long-upheld sense of duty, or tradition. Her mother had loved her father, of that she was certain, but she couldn't help to wonder whether Grace's feelings had gradually dissipated towards the man who had cheated and deceived her, and whether their annual charade at his headstone was just done to reinforce the lie that she had fed her daughter since the age of fourteen. She wouldn't blame her for resenting him; he had a hold on her from beyond the grave, almost forcing Grace into concealing the truth for their daughter's sake because she had no other real choice. At least not at first, anyway.

Sandra, on the other hand, didn't really see the need for flowers. She realised, of course, that seemed cold and unfeeling of her, but she felt it was enough that she thought about her father every day, if only for a few seconds. It was enough that she still carried his photograph behind her warrant card, even after the terrible truth of his corruption and affair had been revealed. It was certainly enough that she had allowed her idolisation of him to shape her decisions, her career, her life, despite the fact that he would never actually be there to guide her. She wondered, as she often did, whether he would be proud of her. That was one thing that remained untainted by his deception, and his decision to take the selfish, cowardly way out.

"Sandra?" a gentle male voice disturbed her inner musings, as she stared at the inscribed marble of the headstone. She turned around quickly, not recognising the voice at first.

"Oh, it's you," she sighed, attaching a name and face to the unfamiliar vocal sound. Tom. She had been expecting him to reappear at some point, if she was being truthful. She'd made it quite clear that she didn't want a relationship with her father's illegitimate child, her half-brother, but she had come to regret that decision in hindsight. A year had passed, and so had her shock and anger. Now, she merely accepted it as something that happened in the past. It was impossible for her, or anyone else, to change. "Hi."

"Hi," he replied hesitantly. "Listen, I'm sorry to disturb you. I didn't know you'd be here."

"It's fine. I don't even know why I'm here, to be honest. I don't usually come here these days."

"I don't really know why I'm here, either." He said quietly, moving to stand next to her. "Other than it being Father's Day, and I guess I just wondered…I don't know."

"Hmm," she mumbled, not really sure of what to say. "I bet he never thought this would happen."

"Thought what would happen?"

"Both of his children stood at his grave together. He probably never even thought that we would meet."

"No," Tom agreed. "Coincidence is a strange thing."

"Certainly is."

They lapsed into silence for a while, the warm glow of the sun glinting off the marble of the headstone slightly, despite the erosion which was beginning to set in, smoothing the formerly blunt edges of the rectangular surface.

"What was he like?" the man asked eventually. "I mean, I know he made mistakes, but how do you remember him, as a father?"

Sandra sighed, exhaling slowly. The events of the past few years had made her question everything she knew about the man she called Dad, but it had been Jack who persuaded her that her memories of him were real, if only relatively fleeting. He had loved her, she was sure of that.

"He was a good dad," she stated, resolutely. "He worked a lot, of course, it comes with the territory when you're in the force, but I suppose that made the time we did spend together more cherished. He used to pick me up from school in his police car, every Friday afternoon, then on Saturdays he'd take me to this little café after horse riding for lemonade and cake."

Tom smiled at her. "Sounds like you have some fond memories."

"Yeah, I do. I suppose all memories are just idealised versions of the truth, to some extent, but…I just know, if that makes sense?"

He nodded. "Perfectly."

"Have you seen anymore pictures of him, apart from the one you had?"

"No, I haven't."

"Sorry. That's probably my fault," she replied, regretfully, as she rooted in her bag for her warrant card. "I know I wasn't exactly accepting of you last year, and I should have been kinder, at least."

"It's alright, honestly. You were in shock, it's not every day you stumble upon a half-brother who you had no idea existed," he smiled ironically.

"Thank you. Here," she said, retrieving his photo and handing it to him. He studied it for a long moment, taking in the features of his father, who he had never had the chance to meet.

"So that's where I got my good looks from," he muttered eventually, smirking as he handed her back the photograph.

She chuckled. "Yeah, apparently he was quite the looker in his day. Probably why he was such a ladies' man,"

"Hmm, probably." He replied, glad to have formed some sort of tentative relationship with his half-sister. "Thanks for showing me that, I really appreciate it, honestly. It's good to finally find out what he was like. I'll leave you to it."

"You're welcome," she smiled softly. "Tom?"

"Yeah?"

"Let me give you my number. We should meet up again, if you'd like. I have a few more pictures of him at home."

He blinked, momentarily surprised. "Sure, I'd really like that," he replied as she handed him her card. "Thank you."

"It's alright. I'll see you around, then."

She waited until he had disappeared from view and faced their father's headstone again, the light summer breeze wafting strands of her blonde hair across her face. Gordon had made mistakes, devastating ones, but it was her choice whether any good could come out of them after all these years. She could see that now, clear as day. And it would; she would do that for him by accepting Tom into her life.

"Night Dad." She whispered, affectionately running her hand across his memorial, and navigating her way back through the rows of mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, all of whom had made mistakes at some point in their lives, yet were all loved, unconditionally and infinitely.


End file.
